


Hold Me Together

by otapocalypse



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cats, Established Relationship, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Skype
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 14:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11209662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otapocalypse/pseuds/otapocalypse
Summary: Otabek and Yuri are assigned to different qualifying events. How will they hold up?





	Hold Me Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yurionviktor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yurionviktor/gifts).



They were together, when the results were announced. Both had their eyes trained on the screen, waiting to see familiar names, surprise at some, satisfaction at others, and a few, outright scorn. Yuri’s heart was pounding, even though he knew he’d get in. He never needed to worry, nowadays, with his skill level rivaling even Victor, he rarely ever spared the time to be nervous about whether or not he would make the qualifiers. Otabek, however, seemed pale and even more withdrawn until they’d both confirmed their names were on the list, Yuri with a smug smile, and Otabek with a resigned nod.

The dread came after they had looked closer, when Mila had pointed out they were not, in fact, competing against each other. “I’m going to be here, in Russia…” Yuri whispered, brow furrowing as Otabek inched closer and cupped the tiny phone in his own hand, as well. “And you’re headed to the Cup of China.” The mood was a bit more somber then, but they’d managed the news well, Yuri turning to his boyfriend with a smile that was just a bit too forced. “Congratulations, Beka.”

The days went quicker then. Knowing Otabek would be the first to leave weighed heavy on Yuri’s heart, and it was apparent. He became almost obsessive, spending every dwindling hour of the day hanging out with Otabek as the season drifted closer, until one day he walked in on the man packing up his things, and they’d had to say their final goodbyes. Still, they held strong, with neither one even shedding a tear as they hugged one last time at the airport.

“Well, you’ll be skating against the pig. That should be interesting,” Yuri grumbled not a week later, through a choppy Skype call that kept cutting in and out. It frustrated him to no end; each time he tried to blame himself Otabek would try and calm him, remind him it was just their distance and the faulty free programming. Rather than make him more rational, however, this only pissed Yuri off more, and he was speaking in increasingly short and clipped sentences, struggling not to let his anger ruin this time with Beka.

“Four weeks.” The brunette was saying. “Okay, Yura? One week at a time. We’ll see each other again before you know it.” Yuri was already shaking his head at that, but he didn’t need to. Otabek understood; when you were waiting, just a couple of days seemed like an eternity, much less a few entire weeks. Otabek sighed. “Look, we can talk every day. And we’ll watch each other skate, yeah?” His smile came through the screen, small but genuine. “I know it’ll hurt, but we can make it. I promise.”

Yuri had broken, that night. Crying softly into his pillow and hugging Potya close, until even she could no longer put up with his bullshit and scrambled away with a startled meow. He watched through watery eyes as she took up a vigil on his bedside table, pausing in grooming her tearstained fur every so often to glare daggers at him. He glared right back. “You little traitorous bitch.” He grumbled, with no real malice in his voice. “You’re supposed to love and comfort me when my boyfriend is away and instead, you’re being an asshole.”

No luck with Potya, and so he was forced to continue with Otabek’s subpar plan, the two of them texting nearly every moment of every day, and when they each had a spare moment, they would scramble to their computers and curse at Skype until they intimidated the damn program to work once again. This got harder to do as Otabek arrived in China, and they were in even more dramatic time zones than when he’d been in Kazakhstan.

It really had been hard, those first two weeks. Still, ever the loyal, stubborn ass that he was, Yuri clung to their routine like it was life until Otabek’s program came along. He watched, wide-eyed, as Beka- his Beka- managed to flub almost half his jumps in his short program. So the pain wasn’t just his own- it was affecting Otabek too. That caused his heart to hurt, somehow, worse than before, that he may be the cause of all this. And there was nothing to be done about it.

“What the hell was that today?” He demanded first thing once Otabek connected to Skype later that night. His dark hair was damp from a shower, small beads of water still dropping onto his skin from time to time. How badly Yuri wished he could reach out and brush them away. Otabek sighed, running a hand through his own hair and scattering water droplets everywhere, and Yuri’s thoughts along with them.

“I don’t know what got into me… Usually I can keep my mind clear when I’m skating, especially in competition, but I just couldn’t stop thinking of you and… Hey… what’s wrong? Yura? Are you… crying?” It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they had to be apart, and Yuri, shaking and with tears finally spilling over his flushed cheeks, bowed his head in shame.

“Yuri…” Otabek murmured, looking shocked even through the watery haze. He didn’t know what to do; he wasn’t great with people crying. And yet… “Yuri… It’s half over, love.” He had to try. “Two weeks, and you’ve survived. Only two weeks more, and we’ll be together again.” The whimpering continued. Otabek let out a breath, exasperated. “Yuri… Please, don’t be so upset… Listen to me. Yura. Look at me.”

That, at least, he could do. Yuri forced his head up, hating for Otabek to see him like this. Hating to appear so… weak. “Yura, tomorrow, I am going to skate my heart out for you. I’m going to place at the top of the podium, and I’m going to bring the medallion back with me, in two weeks. For you, Yura. To show you… How proud I am. How strong you make me. Let me do the same for you. Believe me when I say we can make it.”

Yuri sniffled quietly, still beyond words, but calmed enough to manage a simple nod. Otabek’s worried expression softened, and Yuri thought he could see a smile on that screen. “And don’t think I’m going to let you go soft on me. I expect you to do the same. And you and I, we’ll reach the top of the Grand Prix Final, together.” Yuri laughed quietly, his final tears falling as he forced a few hiccups back down. “I’m not going soft on you.” He answered thickly. “You’re going to have to work your ass off to even come close to my level.”

That call had ended in laughter, and though the pain wasn’t any less before, Yuri felt lighter the next day. He was further encouraged when Otabek delivered on his promise, making his way through a perfect free program and staring stoically at the camera as he held up his country’s flag, as always, to the flashing cameras. The rest of the time passed in a blur, not quick exactly, but hazy so that later, in memory, days were mixed up or forgotten altogether as Yuri prepared for his own upcoming competition.

The day before the Rostelecom Cup was when Otabek finally arrived, dressed up in a sweater and scarf rather than his street clothes. Yuri had answered the door with a loud answer to something Lilia had snapped at him, when the sight of his boyfriend standing there, offering a small smile and a bouquet of tiger lilies, froze him in his place. He was throwing his arms around Otabek moments later, murmuring in his ear, “I love you.” He could have melted when the simple response came, “I love you, too.”

That night was spent curled up together on Yuri’s bed, Potya trying to settle her fluffy self on the computer as a French film played. The two of them binged on several different kinds of expensive chocolates and street food that were probably not very appropriate to eat right before a competition. Yuri wasn’t worried, however. Let the others have a fair chance at beating him; they wouldn’t. 

And he really couldn’t care what anyone said about his bad habits or his taking the risk of slowing himself down the next day; how could he, when he was wrapped in the arms of the one he loved most, heart swelling until he thought it could burst when Otabek laughed at a joke he’d said, or at a particularly funny part of the movie. His boyfriend caught Yuri staring at him and met his eyes, arching one brow. “Your first program is tomorrow and I made it just in time, are you going to be ready?” Yuri felt the determination that only rose from a challenge burning within him.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”


End file.
